


The Saga of Why Dwight hates Daryl

by demeter11



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Daryl Dixon and Merle Dixon are Siblings, F/M, Gen, Nice Merle Dixon, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Protective Merle Dixon, Rape, Trans Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:10:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demeter11/pseuds/demeter11
Summary: We first out Daryl was born Cordelia and the tragedy involved during his evolution.We also learn Dwight blames Daryl for his mother abandoning him.





	The Saga of Why Dwight hates Daryl

**Author's Note:**

> Not for the faint of heart.

One of these days I am killing that fucker, Dwight thought as he watched helplessly as Negan intentionally made out with his ex-wife Sherry with vulgar elation right in front of him.

When Dwight tried to leave, Negan asked, "Where do you think you are going? I haven't dismissed you yet."

Sherry apologized with her eyes to Dwight.

Yep. When I murder him it is going to feel so fucking good that I might come a little as I watch the life leave his eyes.

Dwight had never hated no one as thoroughly and completely as he did Negan. Well, save his birth mother and the man she let take her away from him.

Dwight, always the lucky one has been in the presence of both off and on in the past six months.

He had been too much of a coward to confront his mother. So, he decided to torment the man he held responsible.

It was the next day. He was in the kitchen with Priyanka.

They had been working in the kitchen together the last week.

She noticed he was wearing Daryl's angel wing vest.

She could tell wearing it gave him a certain amount of pride.

Opening up a can of dog food, he asked her, "Have I told you I was adopted?"

"No. How old were you?"

"Seven," he said sounding sadder than he meant to."

"Did you ever know your real mum and dad?"

"Not my dad. I heard he was a real monster. It was me, my mom and her brother. We were a family. They were rednecks in retrospect but we loved each other. Had so much fun. Then one day, it was all over. I never saw her again. Until recently."

"Really who is your mom? Do I know her?"

"Probably."

"You are making me pull teeth here. Who?"

Dwight told her and made her swear to secrecy.

Priyanka's jaw hit the floor.

"Ain't no way. I mean for real? I just can't imagine. It explains a lot and nothing all once."

"Well, I can't either. She chose him over me. And I never understood why."

"Quit being such a pussy and ask."

"It is not as simple as all that. I don't know what to say. I don't think she recognizes me."

"Of course she does. From self experience, you know your baby anywhere. She is probably afraid of rejection. Everyone loves to forget mothers are people, too."

"Moms have no right to be people. Dad's neither. That is like saying God is a person. If you aren't better than us then who are we? She could have been better. I wish she had been better," Dwight became visibly upset.

"Do you need anything else? I need to go, uh, go and do something," Dwight said flimsily.

"It's alright. I can cope. Go."

Dwight took the dogfood sandwich on a detour and stopped by his apartment. He had a small box full of mementos that he had managed to keep.

One piece of nostalgia in particular was a photograph of a newborn him and his mother taken by his uncle on the day he was born. She looked at him with love and devotion. It was right there on her kind but sadly pretty face.

He flipped it over to read the inscription on the back. He traced his fingers over his mother's writing so much that words were barely legible. The message had the propensity to either give him hope or piss him off. Today, he went with pissed.

And decided to take it out on his favorite whipping boy- Daryl Dixon.

Feeling anger on top of all consuming sadness, he decided to swing by Daryl's cell with the offending sandwich at the ready.

Daryl flinched and squinted when the light shone on him. He figured any moment could be his last. He had made peace with that.

There was one thing, Daryl couldn't reconcile- Dwight's hatred. In his mind, only crime he had committed towards Dwight was to try to help him.

Sounding extra ghoulish, he said, "I made this extra special just for you."

He threw the plate down. The sandwich hit the filthy floor wet side down.

Daryl put it back together without being told to. He took a bite and said defiantly, "Finger licking good."

Dwight scoffed at him and was about to leave when Daryl said, "I don't get you. Why do you hate me?"

Stopped at the door and said without turning around, "You don't remember me, do you? It's been over twenty years. No way you would tried to help me six months ago if you knew who I was. You would've known better."

"I would know you anywhere. That was why I tried to lead you to Alexandria. I wanted to help."

Dwight said wryly, "You help me? You took her away from me. Fuck you. I hope you die in here."

Dwight slammed the door. Daryl said, "So do I."

Daryl- Tell Your Truth

Daryl sat there dirty, funky, cold and naked in the cell. It had been for the better part of a week.

In the days before the end of the world, he and Merle had lied and stole enough that Daryl was able to get enough surgery that at a cursory glance he physically looked like what he was- male.

Still, a little self conscious he made it a point to cover himself whenever the door opened.

He had eaten half of his dog food sandwich Dwight had so gleefully given him and drank all the stale water he had.

Apart of him felt like he deserved this treatment. For his part in Glenn's death- in which Dwight kindly left him a Polaroid of. He wept like a baby.

Dwight wanted to make Daryl pay for a crime he felt he knew he committed against him.

Then again every time he saw Dwight's face he felt sick to his stomach. Not for the reasons one might assume.

Something about Dwight's belligerent determination to be an asshole reminded him of Merle.

Merle. Merle. Magnificent, somehow even more fucked up than him, loving, loyal even in the first moments of undeath Merle.

Merle for the most part was extremely protective of Del- short for Cordelia Leigh Dixon when he managed not to be in jail.

When he got a whiff of what their father was doing to the girl who was ten at the time- he beat the shit of their father, Early, then removed her from that house. It was 1981.

He got a beat up old pickup from a friend.

Robbed a bank and put them up in motels and extended stay places for over a year.

A sixth grade dropout himself, Merle made sure Daryl went to school.

"You are gonna be better than us, girl," Merle said.

"I am not a girl. I am a boy. I told you."

"Whatever you say, sugar and spice," he teased. Daryl kicked him.

Merle laughed.

During this time was she decided to live his truth and declare himself Daryl and began to dress as a boy. His father had forced him to wear dresses and skirts and keep his dark blonde hair long. Which he didn't mind. Long hair was in fashion during this era of Motley Crue and other hair bands.

This didn't stop Daryl from stealing boy jeans and shirts and changing into them once he got to school. They weren't always clean or fit well but that wasn't the point. He felt right in those clothes.

Del became Daryl because she liked the way it sounded. No other reason than that.

Merle resisted at first but after a week or two he began referring to him by that name.

They would go camping and hunting in the woods during the weekend. They ate what they killed. But, on days when they caught nothing, they would eat hotdogs and beans and spaghetti-os.

He felt a certain measure of safety with his brother.

They would steal together. At a young age he knew he liked danger and adventure. That he was a troublemaker sometimes.

Merle had taught him how to break and enter. How to use his looks to his advantage to entice pedophiles and Merle would rob them.

Then on one night, Merle left his brother alone in a motel and went to a bar, got drunk and hit on a guy. When he the guy led him and turned him down loudly-calling him a backwoods, deliverance faggot; he beat the guy down. Unfortunately for him, the guy was the son of a federal judge and he got sentenced to five years.

Leaving poor Daryl no choice but to go back home once the authorities found the child.

He was twelve then. It was 1983. Puberty had been begun. That was hell enough watching his body become decidedly feminine. His soul and his meat suit did not match.

Merle told the authorities that their father was a child molester.

They confronted Daryl about it but he denied it. He was ashamed of the abuse and wanted to protect his father. He loved him. So, Merle's pleas fell on deaf ears.

Daryl would grow to regret not confessing then.

Because what happened next went from bad to horrific.

Sometimes, Daryl swore he could still smell the beer and cigarettes and rotgut whiskey on father's breath as he breathed on him. Feel him painfully inside, taste him. Hear his ugly voice in his head. Telling him was nothing. He would never be nothing. That he was a freak and an abomination. That if that fairy tale God was real that He didn't love him either.

"I am going to fuck you until you like it, girl."

That day never happened. Something worse did. He had an orgasm during. His body let him down once again. It didn't hurt even though his soul and mind found it excruciating. This was just the body's way of defending itself against assault.

That night, Daryl felt so ashamed that he tried to kill himself later that night.

He was about to pull the trigger then thought about Merle. And the last thing he said to him, "Merle is going to always love Daryl. He is not a mistake."

Daryl put the gun down from his temple.

Weapon still in hand, he wanted to kill the real problem. He pointed the gun at her dad.

He was wide awake and doctoring a bottle of Taaka.

"Little bitch, either shoot or get me a beer."

He pulled back the hammer.

Early being the worst stood up and walked into the gun. It landed in the middle of his collarbone.

"You say you a man. Got the balls?"

Just four pounds of pressure on the trigger and all his problems would go away.

Do it, a voice said so loud and deep and clear that he instinctively knew this was obviously the wrong thing to do.

He unloaded the gun. Dropping the bullets on the floor and shooting the one in the chamber into the ceiling. Early leapt at him breaking the empty vodka bottle over his head.

Daryl remembers little after that. Just waking up bloody and naked and in pain. He was so battered that he had to miss three weeks of school.

Which was an extra hardship for Daryl because he liked school if not for the guaranteed two meals a day, five days a week if nothing else. There were days where Early simply forgot to feed him.

He still had to steal make up just to be passable when he returned to class. The excuse he gave for all the limp, bruises and absences was a car wreck but it sounded like a fucking lie.

A couple of Daryl's teachers felt this. Especially a young health teacher named Moira Judge.

She knew there was abuse of some sort in the Dixon home. But unless the young lady said something, nothing would happen to stop it. Maybe not even then.

Meanwhile, the senior Dixon saw her apparent enjoyment of his touch as a validation of his crime against his child.

Therefore the flagrantabuse became even more frequent. It was an ego boost for the old man.

One day when Daryl was fifteen and his dad was passed out in bed beside him, Something About Amelia premiered. This was one of the few times he had managed to pay the light bill.

It was about a fourteen year old girl who told a guidance counselor that her father was sexually assaulting her. The movie proved to be a revelation to young Daryl. It saved his life.r

That was the first time something confirmed what he suspected. What was happening was wrong and contrary to what his father said someone would believe him.

Even with this revelation, Daryl had to work up the courage to do the thing.

Plus, he was beginning to feel a change in his body.

Sore breasts, stomach aches, weight gain and an odd craving for mustard sardines with Hormel chili together covered in unmelted Velveeta cheese. He had not had his period in months. He feared he had gotten him pregnant.

Coincidentally, the next day in health class, they were teaching sex ed.

He waited until after class to ask his teacher a question.

"Mrs. Judge?" Daryl asked more shy than usual.

Then paused.

More than patient with the unkempt and musty girl, the teacher said sweetly, "Cordelia, spill it."

"I saw this movie with Sam Malone from Cheers. And he was doing bad stuff to his daughter. Like husband and wife stuff. Um, can a dad make his daughter pregnant?"

The teacher immediately became alarmed. She knew intrinsically Cordelia Dixon was an abused child. To have that suspicion confirmed was heartbreaking.

But, she calmly responded, "Yes. Del, why do you ask?"

The look of devastation on Daryl's face was well, devastating. It was a microexpression. Almost missable. Moira saw it.

"Um, in the movie the girl thought she was pregnant and that's why she told," Daryl lied hoping she had not seen the film.

"That's not why she told. He was grooming her little sister to be next.

Cordelia, is your father, um, interfering with you? Is he forcing himself on you? Are you pregnant with your sibling?"

Daryl began to panic, " I am not saying that. It's just a movie. What's wrong with you, lady? You are sick."

She put her hands on Daryl's shoulders.

"Don't touch me, dyke. I am not pregnant. I am not talking about the m-m-movie. Not me," Daryl began to weep and ran out the room.

Teacher followed him.

"Cordelia, sweetheart. We both know what you just told me. Don't be ashamed. It is not your fault. It's not your fault, baby," she said loudly.

Daryl stopped running.

Just tell, she thought. So, she did.

It was freeing to say the least.

Mrs. Judge took her to the principal's office. She explained Daryl's situation.

The principal was a bit of a hard ass. Nothing fazed him. Except what was happening to Daryl. He cried tears of anger.

He was also Moira's husband.

He reassured Daryl it wasn't his fault.

The guidance counselor on the other hand was a total bitch. They left him alone with her.

"I knew something was going on with you, Dixon. You are a bright young lady but you don't apply yourself. You get into fights. Sometimes, you come to school filthy. I have gotten so many smell complaints."

Daryl was accustomed to being dragged through the mud, so her little dig almost felt like a kiss.

He responded, "Sometimes, we don't have light, gas and water. I can't control that. Dad drinks the bill money. My brother would pay it. He took me out of there. He tried to save me. I didn't let him. He's in jail."

The guidance counselor didn't like Daryl.

She only saw a troublemaker. White trash. A teenage waste of space.

"You are pretty enough but you go out of your way to hide it. You don't have any friends," she said judging.

"I don't need or want friends. Those bitches don't like me and I don't like them," Daryl scoffed.

"Language, young lady."

"I am not a lady," Daryl said definitively.

"What does mean? You are uncouth."

"Uncouth? Are you calling me trash?"

She said with a vicious calmness, "You said it. Not me."

Daryl held his composure but every part of him wanted to snatch that bitch's soul out her body.

Instead Daryl asked, "What happens now? I mean. My dad, he hurts me and I can't take it anymore. A baby is the last straw. I need help. What now?"

"Are you mad at your father? Where is your mother?" She asked unabashedly rolling her eyes.

"Of course, I am mad at him. He hurts me everyday. Every chance he gets. Its not just the man, woman stuff but he hits me with his fists. Says ugly, ugly things to me. He won't give me money. Barely gives me food. My life is hell and none of you even notice because you see nothing when you look at me."

The woman coldly said, "You could try harder."

"How? I am. I am trying right now."

"Calm down, " the woman said taking notes. The principal wanted her take before they called the police.

Daryl despite everything was fairly obedient at his core.

He calmed down and finished answering the question, "My mom has been gone since I was seven. My brother is in jail. I have no one. Please call the police. Help me. You are supposed to help me."

Calling herself being the devil's advocate even though she was clearly a minion, she said, "I think you are angry with your father. And if you are indeed pregnant, its some little boy you're protecting. Come clean. You just want the attention. Good or bad. I know about girls like you."

Daryl's face ran hot with tears.

"He said this would happen. That nobody would believe me. Why would I lie about something as shitty and fucked up as this?"

"Language."

"Fuck you. This is embarrassing. Humiliating. My father likes to," she couldn't bring herself to say the word rape or violate for that matter.

Feeling vicious, the counselor said, "Did you do something?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are mature for your age. A tall girl, strong and healthy looking girl. You're over six feet tall. Couldn't you fight him off if you wanted to? Maybe you have an Electra complex."

"What does even mean? He's my dad. You can't hurt your parents. He's all the family I have. So, for me to tell on him. I am scared. Not for me. But, my baby. I know I am having one. I can feel it. He can't raise it. What if it's a girl? Please help me."

"Electra wanted to kill her mother and marry her father. Maybe you gave an obviously weak man the wrong idea?"

"You saying I wanted to?"

Smug, the woman replied again, "You said it, not me."

Daryl stood up and cracked his neck.

The counselor looked at him as if to challenge him.

Feeling years of repressed pain and rage surged the depths of his being. It came out through his hands when he grabbed the middle aged shrew. He pulled her from behind the desk and onto the ground.

As he punched her, he screamed, "I didn't want to. I didn't want to. He was supposed to love and protect me. You stupid evil, bitch."

The principal and two other men had to pull him off the woman. She tried to play victim but once Daryl told them what she said, he fired the woman but called an ambulance for both of them.

Daryl was also consequently arrested for assault. The bitch wanted to press charges.

Mrs. Judge didn't like the guidance counselor. She whispered in Daryl's ear, "I always wanted to punch elitist bitch in the mouth."

Daryl almost smiled.

She stayed by his side all night.

Once there, he was handcuffed to the hospital bed.

"Is this really fucking necessary? I am not going to hurt anybody," Daryl lamented.

"You broke her nose and her jaw," the cop said.

"Maybe next time that cunt will remember not to run her stupid cunt mouth off about shit she don't know nothing about. She said I wanted it. I didn't. She said I did something to make him think I wanted him to do this to me.

Did I?" She began to cry again.

The cop softened.

"It's not your fault," he grabbed his hand. He pulled away.

Soon, they examined him. Mrs. Judge held his hand the whole time.

Sure enough, he was three and a half months along. Too late for an abortion. Not that he particularly wanted one. The idea of not being alone appealed to him. They also took a rape kit. It had literally became available for the first time in Alabama that week. They collected plenty of evidence.

A female detective came in to question him. He spilled his guts to her. He even told her about his gender identity and how that was his father's excuse for the abuse. The cop asked, "You want to be a man because your father assaulted you and see being a man is better than being a woman?" Officer Macgillicuddy didn't mean anything by it. She really wanted to know.

"I know you are trying to help me. You have been nice and I feel like you believe me. But, no offense but where in the fuck you get that from?

I knew when I was three I was in the wrong body. That's my clearest, earliest memory. I told my father when I was eight and that when the abuse started. He said he was going to straighten me out. But, the more I think about it. He was probably going to do it to me any way.

He was hitting me and putting cigarettes out on me way before that. And only when my brother isn't around. I can't help feeling the way I feel. I am a man."

"Cordelia-"

"My name is Daryl. Not Cordelia. That might as well be my slave name. No offense," the officer was black.

"I am thicker skinned than that, darling. Daryl is a nice name. Like that blonde actress. You kind of look her. Such a pretty girl."

"Quit calling me that. And I don't think men are better than women because they are not. I don't hate women. I love them. I am attracted to them. I just know I am not one."

"So. You are a lesbian?"

"I am a man. Men like women."

"Tell that to that baby in your belly. Only women can do that. It makes you no less a warrior but more so."

"I guess but you don't get it. He didn't make me feel this way. He gets no credit for that. I feel I am worthless. Unlovable. That he gets credit for."

The officer was touched and hugged Daryl. He was only half sincere. Daryl saw this as an opportunity to take the handcuff key.

After this, they contacted her father telling the "man" that Cordelia had got hit by a car and is a coma to get him to show up.

Once he arrived there was an uniformed officer outside the door, "Early Dixon?"

"Here about my baby girl," hesaid.

"So are we. You are under arrest, you daughter raping piece of redneck shit. You got her pregnant."

Early was a combination of horrified and fascinated. He didn't think he could get her pregnant. He tried to run for it.

Mrs. Judge had went to the cantina for a coffee. So, Daryl was alone he heard the commotion and let himself free and stepped outside his door just in time to see Early get beat down and arrested.

It brought him no joy like he thought it would. It made him sad because didn't have to be turn out like this. He just wanted to be a nice, normal family like the Clampets or the Waltons. Shit, he would have settled to be like Bunkers or the Huxtables for that matter.

Early saw Daryl and screeched, "You lying fucking whore! I am gonna kill you, jolly green giant , Brooke Shields, Lolita bitch. It ain't mine! It ain't mine."

He ran back into his room and vomited in the toilet. He had his own bathroom. He knew he had crossed the point of no return.

He lifted his shirt and looked at his stomach.

"It's me and you against the world, huh. I love you, baby."

His brain skipped ahead to the day he gave birth in January of 1987. By then, Merle was out of jail early and waiting in the waiting room for his little brother slash nephew to be born.

One of the nurses came and got curly haired Merle at around midnight.

When Merle came in, Daryl was looking at his son with absolute aww. He had unswaddled him and took off all his clothes to make sure everything was in place.

Merle asked, "How many heads its got?"

"My son has the one, motherfucker. And it is beautiful. He is perfect. Everything I was supposed to be. Still can be. I have been reading about people like me. Trapped in their bodies. Right now, though, looking at him. Maybe this body ain't so bad. Look at what it can do."

Caught up in that memory, the door suddenly popped open brought him back to his 2016 reality. It was Dwight.

"She insisted," he put a hot plate of food in front of Daryl. It smelled like fried chicken and potatoes. Priyanka had made it for him. Dwight had soft spot for her.

Daryl was so grateful. As he reached for it, Dwight snatched it back up.

"Come on, asshole. You are better than this," Daryl said hungry and annoyed.

"Am I?

Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't think I had the right to. I was afraid you would, reject me because I did it. I became who I always was. I made myself whole. So, I thought."

"So much for being out and proud, huh?"

"If you know who I am. Why didn't you come to Alexandria with me? You and Sherry while you had the chance?"

"Oh, so, only you get to pick and choose when we have a relationship? I waited for you to come back. You never did."

"I thought you were better off without me," Daryl explained sounding almost desperate.

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"The lifestyle I was living wasn't conducive to keeping you around. I hate to say it but you would not have been safe with me. I was up to some pretty stupid shit then. I was still young and was working through some serious shit. I was not prepared. I did not have the tools. Were the Judges not good to you?"

"They were excellent. They loved me. I took their last name. Since my first one was nothing but a reminder of pain."

"For the first time in my life, I praise Jesus. They took care of you."

"No, thanks to you."

Back to 1987, Merle asked, "What's his name?"

"Daryl Dwight Dixon Jr. After me," he said putting his diaper and clothes back on.

Back to 2016, Dwight says, "You can go to Hell. As good as they were to me. I wanted you! You, Ma. You said on my eighth birthday you would be back. You never did. You left me so you could become him. Being him was more important to you than being my mother. I needed you, too.

I bet as far as anyone knows you have no child.

So, fuck you. And enjoy your dumbass meal. I hope you choke on it."

Naked or not, Daryl stood up and surprised his son by hugging him.

Dwight tried to pretend like he didn't want it but he hugged him back.

This was one of the few instances where they were absolutely alone. No one else to see. No one else to hear.

"Ma, I shot you. I shot because I thought you had forgotten about me. Or wanted to. I know about Early and what he did to you. I know I am your brother, too. I thought you hated me and didn't want to hide it anymore. I would hate me if I was you."

"I can't hate you. Our father hated all of us. I don't hate him. I never did. If I hate him then I have to hate myself then I have to you and Merle. I can't do it. I won't.

I think I would have shot my mom too if my dad hadn't beat me to the punch," Daryl said trying to make a joke.

"That's not funny. Like decidedly not so," he laughed.

Then Dwight continued, "Anyway, at the time I was pissed because I assumed you didn't recognize me. That you could be kind to a stranger and not me. That's why I took your bike and your food. I'm sorry," he cried on her shoulder.

"No, I am sorry I was too weak to keep you. I had no choices. I asked Mrs. Judge to adopt you. She was my friend."

"She was. She always had nice things to say about you. Dad not so much."

"He was a republican. Would else would you expect?"

They shared a laugh. The same actually.

"I am not letting you off the hook. I am still pissed. One day, I want to know why. Uncle Merle?"

"He's dead."

"Fuck. I figured when I didn't see him. You were always his shadow."

"Dwight, I hate he hurt you. You're still handsome. I am going to kill Negan. Want to help?" His voice was as soft as Dwight remembered it.

"With everything I got," Dwight left his birth mother.

About an hour or later, Daryl was given a flashlight, some books, sweats, a pillow and a blanket. He knew his son had everything to do with this and had softened towards him somewhat.

One of the books was The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. He would never let anyone know this was his favorite book. He discovered it in Mrs. Judge's library. She had begged him not to read it because the inbred baby dies and Pecola loses it towards the end. He saw it as a challenge. What not to do.

But, just like she wanted blue eyes, he wanted to be a male just as badly except with him, his desire was not a delusion. He related to Pecola but he felt like he was made of stronger stuff.

When he picked up the book to re-read it, a photo fell out.

He kissed the photo and remembered what he wrote on the back.

It said: Daryl will always love Dwight no matter what. You are not a mistake.

He put the picture under his shirt and slept more soundly than he had in years.


End file.
